


Jay Gatsby x Male!Reader, Time travel au

by JatsbyGatsby4L1fe



Category: The Great Gatsby (1974)
Genre: AU, Class Project, Himbo, M/M, Reader-Insert, Satire, Sexy, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JatsbyGatsby4L1fe/pseuds/JatsbyGatsby4L1fe
Summary: This was for class. Shoutout to prosecord -june





	Jay Gatsby x Male!Reader, Time travel au

It was a dark and stormy night. Most people would be concerned if a fire started in their basement, but fortunately for you, this has happened enough that you’ve already come up with a routine. You quickly put it out with a fire blanket and continue on with your work. Wiping your handsome brow with your grease-stained sleeve, you glanced at the rusty clock on the desk. 12:01 AM. Even though you were technically underground, you could still hear the harsh wind against the house. The rain had been relentless tonight, thunder cracking loudly every so often, just enough to keep you on your toes. The forecast had greatly underestimated this particular electrical storm, a detail that could have dire consequences when you’re currently trying to rip a hole through time and space. A time machine. You’d been working on it for a while now, your own personal pet project.  
It had been four years since you lost your PhD in Theoretical Physics. It had been a huge scandal and cover-up that originated when you had attempted to artificially create eternal youth by rewinding the cells of someone’s body. Unfortunately, the “volunteer” test subject didn’t survive the initial test. Your name was slandered in the scientific community and you were forbidden from official experiments.  
Well, that’s fine. You thought to yourself. I’ll just do it on my own. And here you were, attempting to alter the space-time continuim in your dimly-lit basement during a severe electrical storm.  
...On second thought, maybe that wasn’t your best idea in the world. In your defense, the wind only picked up after you had already started, and once you start a project, it’s nearly impossible to drag you away. Luckily, the storm appeared to be dying down, so you blissfully carry on wiring your machine.  
And then the lightning struck.

You slowly opened your eyes. The old lightbulb above you seemed brighter than ever, forcing you to squint. Whatever had just happened, it knocked the wind out of you and threw you onto your back. You gasped for air, but a pressure on your chest kept you from catching your breath.  
“O-oh. Um, hello sport! Bit of an odd situation we’ve found ourselves in, wouldn’t you say?” A clear and charming voice came from on top of you, and you opened your eyes to see a lean, handsome man in a pinstripe suit with a red handkerchief folded neatly in the pocket. His face had a surprised and embarrassed expression upon it, one that probably mirrored your own. His eyes looked inquisitive and curious, two deep pools of chocolate brown. They peered through you, prying into the depths of your soul. His lips curled into a bashful, yet confused smile. It was strangely reassuring, as if seeing this man who was quite clearly so elegant and graceful in an uncomfortable manner validated your own awkward position.  
Your cheeks warmed as you soon realized that you had been staring at this strange man on top of you for an extended period of time. Longer than you probably should have. You quickly threw him off of you and stood up, grabbing a nearby screwdriver. No matter how handsome or visually appealing he was, this was still a stranger who was somehow in your house. He rose as well, saw the weapon in your trembling hands, and put his own up in a gesture of pacifism. You wordlessly point at him with your hardware store shank, trembling nervously.  
“Now now, old sport, no need to be hasty about things,” He said. Although his brow was furrowed in confusion and fear, his words still held a manner of grace and poise to them. As if he knew exactly how this would all pan out. You shook your head and removed all thoughts of how smooth and sexy elegant his voice was. It didn’t matter how undeniably dapper this stranger was, no one should have been able to infiltrate your basement secret laboratory!  
“Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?!” You demanded, making an effort to keep your voice straight. The man straightened and cleared his throat, reaching down to retrieve his hat that had probably fallen off when he had fallen on you.  
“My deepest apologies, old sport. Allow me to introduce myself. I am known around the east coast as the great Jay Gatsby of West Egg.” He took a deep bow, removing his hat in the process. After rising, he held out his hand, as if inviting you to be a part of his mysterious and magical world. “And you are?”  
You blinked in surprise. This man had somehow broken into your house, bypassed the locks on my basement door, and fallen on top of you and yet now he was acting like this was a casual meeting at some 1920s dinner party? Your eyes narrowed, making sure he made no sudden moves.  
“Um, my name is [y/n],” you spat in suspicion, eyeing him.  
“That suits you, old sport,” he said sexily.  
Your cheeks heat up slightly, reddening a bit. You bit your lip to try to ignore his dashing demeanor, but it just made your face redder. You squinch your eyes shut in thought, thinking about how this scenario could have happened. The pieces clicked together in your head, and you opened your eyes.  
“... Riddle me this, you sexy stranger,” you started, squinting, “What year is it?”  
He chuckled handsomely, as if you told a joke, and answered. “Why, it’s nineteen twenty-two!”  
Ah, that’s the money. You accidentally time travelled a random himbo. You’re acutely excited, however, since you managed to successfully invent time travel. You stared into his agate balls, distracted by his twinkish grace. The screwdriver fell to the ground, long forgotten.  
“Sir, I could kiss you right now,” you blurted out, briefly overtaken with glee at your success.  
You quickly clapped your hands over your mouth, red in the face with embarrassment. You chuckle sheepishly, and Gatsby does as well, in amusement, head tilted slightly in amusement.  
“Isn’t that coming on a bit quick, old sport?” he chuckled, looking as dashing as ever. His cheeks were red with embarrassment, but his eyes were half-lidded in intrigue. It was an expression that sent tingles through your entire body.  
“U-um, that’s not what I meant. Well- uh, I mean-” Dammit, you thought to yourself. This guy had shown up not two minutes ago and already you were tripping over your own words! Damn your insatiable gayness!  
You furiously shook your head, cleared your throat, and got your thoughts back on track. “I was just, um, excited. You see, uh, Mr. Gatsby, you’re not in 1922 anymore,” You feebly attempted to explain this bizarre situation.  
It was obvious that he didn’t know what the hell you were talking about. His eyes narrowed and his brows were furrowed, as if someone had just told a joke that he didn’t understand. You sighed. Apparently you were in for a long night of explaining to this very handsome stranger. 

“... And that’s basically all that happened,” you finished, exasperated. It had been a couple hours of explaining and answering questions. For the most part, Gatsby had quietly listened to you, sitting straight in his chair with his hands in his lap. His glimmering brown eyes were focused intensely on you, taking in all the information you had to share.  
“Well, that’s quite the story there, old sport!” He exclaimed, chuckling a bit nervously. I had long since proved that I wasn’t lying by showing him some technology from the 21st century.


End file.
